Hello, blog

Every so often I remember something I blogged about once, and so I go in search of it. Usually I end up lost in the archives, wondering/remembering why I wrote about taxes or car trouble or the meaning of life. Back then, this blog was a place to describe and contemplate. I'm not sure what it is now — maybe a place for pictures, a place to keep track of those former thoughts.

I've started a poetry group at the library. We have only had one meeting so far, with very minimal attendance, but the outcome was better than I had hoped. It has been such a long time since I discussed poetry, I forgot the words people use to talk about it. Which may be a good thing.

I haven't written much poetry since I started grad school — since moving to Casper, actually. Perhaps this is not a very poetic place. Anyway, I missed it. There are so many bad cliches and so much cheesiness surrounding poetry and poets, but still...I think it can be well done, and surprising, and important. Like novels and movies. Not every one is a masterpiece, but there is usually something pleasant or interesting about it. And every once in a while you stumble on one that makes you catch your breath and reread, rewind. And sometimes they make you laugh.

7-30-09

And we always write of ourselves, as if to say,
You hear me speaking. You stop, turn
and with rapt fascination listen. And listen.

So I've kept an orchid alive
for months now, all summer acutally.
I tell you, I'm proud. You nod, agreeing.

I told you once, long ago, when we were listing
birthdays, favorite colors and our respective siblings,
that I collect emu eggs. Every year you send me another.

You got married but I couldn't come. I was revising my memoir
and my editor wouldn't tolerate an interruption.
I sent a card and a rooster figurine, the kind you've always collected.

© 2009 April K Szuch

Comments

[bon]

Lovely and imaginative. Who is this person?
My mind wonders.

[Jimmy LaRoue]

It's been ages since I've written poetry. I miss it, but I'm also afraid I'll have to wade through my own cliches before I push past them into something that's more original and has some meaning.

[April]

Jimmy, isn't that part of poetry writing? You have to use up some of those tired phrases before you get to something good.